XXX - 145 Enslave: The Taming of the Beast (9 page)

Chapter Seven
“Jelena! Get the fuck down here, right now!”
Jelena paused in the act of dialing her cell phone, feeling a wave of irritation. She was supposed to be talking to April, who said a few days earlier that she was going to get the name of a contact…someone who was an archenemy of Dominic Luder’s, who might be open to some kind of a bargain.
Hearing her husband’s voice was the last thing she needed. Any other moment, she’d already be off the seat at her dressing table and halfway down the stairs, to the foyer where her husband was yelling. Her stomach would be in sickly knots; her palms would be sweating as her mind raced through a list of what she may have done wrong, and how best she could rectify the situation.
Now, she remained at her dressing table. Taking a deep breath, she wiped her hands discreetly on a small towel, then touched up her makeup.
She saw his livid reflection in her mirror. “Didn’t you hear me?” he bellowed.
“Hard not to,” she murmured, slicking some lip gloss on her lips.
He grabbed her shoulder, painfully, forcing her to her feet. Adrenaline shot through her.
“The money, Jelena,” he said, his voice pitched high and squeaky in his anger. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out about the goddamned money?”
She’d always focused on the emotion before, she realized, and her own fear. Now it was like she was watching a television show. Had he always sounded so effeminate in his rage?
“Answer me!”
Her stomach calmed. Her jaw clenched. “Of course I knew you’d find out about the money,” she said crisply.
For a second, he looked surprised, and it threw him off stride. His fingers tightened on her shoulder, painfully. “What did you do with it?”
“I need to help my family.” Now the words were raw with emotion. “You wouldn’t help me.”
“So you decided to just take my money?” His laugh was cruel, sarcastic. “Man, you make it easy. I’m divorcing you.”
“Of course you are.” Her voice matched his, tone for tone. “Like I’d keep you.”
Again, a flash of surprise. “I’m kicking your ass out with nothing,” he said. “I’ll give you five minutes. And take those fucking diamonds off your neck. You’re not leaving this house with a penny.”
She crossed her arms, feeling a cold calm surround her, like a coat of ice. “I don’t think so.”
He reached for the necklace, his fingers grazing her throat painfully.
Before she knew what she was going to do, her foot sprang out, catching him hard in the groin. He went pale, then red, spluttering and gripping himself as he fell onto the carpet.
She’d never felt such a surge of pure, violent power before. She towered over him, tempted to kick him in the face. “Let me tell you what I did with
your
money, Henry,” she murmured. “I hired a private detective, a good one. I’ve got pictures of you with an assortment of various women. And I use the term lightly, since there’s that one whose age seems a little questionable.”
He gurgled at her, his eyes bugging in a rage.
“And that one man,” she added casually. “Oh, and a good accountant friend of mine went over your company’s books, did I mention? I’m sure the IRS would be happy to see what you’ve been up to, at the very least.”
“You…you…”
“Besides, some of those clients of yours…” She clucked her tongue. “I’m sure that if they realized the kind of information you were collecting on them, willing to blackmail them or double-cross them…If someone were to tell them what you’d been up to, I imagine jail would be the least of your worries.”
He stopped thrashing around, staring at her with mute horror from the floor.
She stood in front of him, feeling like a giant about to squash a particularly pesky bug. She couldn’t believe she’d ever been afraid of him. Couldn’t believe the lengths she’d gone to try and please him. She must have been insane.
“Here’s how this plays out,” she said. “You’ll move out of this house, today. We will get divorced, but you’re going to give me one of the most generous settlements they’ve ever seen in Nevada. In exchange, you’re going to get to live a free man.”
His eyes narrowed with pure fury.
“And before you get any bright ideas,” she added calmly, feeling a pleasant viciousness curl through her, “if anything happens to me, I’ve got people who will make sure that everything I just warned you about will happen. You’ll die, either in jail or out of it, and probably very, very painfully.”
Slowly, he stood up. She studied him. His shoulders slumped: his expression was bewildered, like a bully who’d just gotten his first real ass-kicking. She didn’t turn her back on him. She wouldn’t, ever again.
If he were smart, he would do the same with her. Then again, he hadn’t been smart.
He shook his head. “I didn’t think you were capable of this.”
She shrugged delicately, still staring at him.
“If I’d known…” He continued his head-shaking, a cross between incredulity and disdain. “No man would ever
touch
a bitch like you, much less marry one.”
She kept her arms crossed carefully.
“I can find another stupid little bitch in less than half an hour. More beautiful than you. Younger. Willing to do whatever the fuck I want her to. But you? You’re damaged. Used.
Old
,” he emphasized. “Don’t you understand that? No man’s going to have you.”
She smiled. At one time, that would have been the worst curse she could have imagined. She would have been paralyzed with the fear of it, trying to whatever she could to mitigate the situation.
Now?
“You are damned right about that,” she breathed. “No man’s ever going to ‘have’ me again. Now get out of
my
house.” She bared her teeth in a smile that was barely human. “I’ve got better things to do.”
She left him there, whimpering and puffing, and picked up her cell phone, dialing April’s number.
“Can you talk?” she asked, when April picked up.
April paused for a second. “Yes. He’s not here.”
He
being Phillipe. “I did a little research. There’s a woman, a really high-powered woman. Daughter of an old mafia don, apparently. Alexis Carmello. Owns a really ritzy brothel, for women clientele.”
“How can I contact her?”
“She’s really hard to get a hold of,” April hedged. “But she’s going to be at a party tonight.” April’s voice lowered. “I got ahold of an invitation.”
Jelena wanted to crow, triumphantly. “Wonderful. I’ll be there to pick it up.” She lowered her voice. “Perhaps I’ll stay for a little bit.”
“I’d like that,” April murmured, and Jelena’s stomach twitched in anticipation.
You’re just using her
, she reminded herself.
Henry groaned loudly. Jelena sighed.
“Give me half an hour to throw out some trash, and I’ll be there.”

I need to know more about him
.
Dominic was recovering nicely, and things had settled into their usual routine—if anything they did could be considered “usual.” They’d pulled some of his stitches when they’d had sex so frantically in the garage. She’d tried to insist that he be more careful, even as she felt like a fool when she did. He smiled at her, an endearing, gentle smile that warmed her in a way all the blazing sex in the world couldn’t. He’d even slept in her bed in the guest suite, a first for them. Of course, they’d spent several hours making very thorough, albeit gentle, love up to that point.
She closed her eyes. Yes, she reassured herself, they’d made love. Or at least, she had.
She couldn’t deny it anymore. Whether it was illusion or a product of stress or whatever, she was falling in love with Dominic Luder. Maybe it was the biggest foolishness in the world; maybe it was a mistake that would cost her her life, she didn’t know. But she knew now that no one was as tender or as caring, no one listened to her, and no one seemed to know her as well as Dominic did.
If only she knew more about him, and could lay some of these nagging concerns to rest…
He’d left for the day, promising her he’d be careful. He was going to see the doctor he trusted, to make sure the stitches were really okay, and to get a refill on antibiotics. She’d insisted, partially because she truly was concerned about him—but also because she really wanted him out of the house.
In the panic of his injury, she hadn’t really had the time to investigate his bedroom suite, but she’d remembered there were other rooms there besides the bedroom. His suite was his sanctum. If she were going to find out more about him, then surely that would be the place.
Once she watched his car leave the driveway and the gate close behind it, she went to the suite. She opened the door, bracing herself for Max’s violent snarls.
“It’s just me,” she said firmly, trying not to be afraid. Didn’t all the clichés say that dogs always smelled fear? She probably smelled drenched in it. He growled at her, then barked once, twice, in a clear warning.
She stepped past him. “Easy, Max.”
He curled his lip, displaying a few large, obviously sharp white teeth. His growl grew louder, more intent.
She walked quickly to the side of the bed, her hand trembling slightly as she reached in for a dog biscuit. She held it out.
The snarl ceased abruptly. He still looked suspicious, but she saw his tail starting to wag traitorously.
“Sit,” she commanded.
He shot her a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me look.
“All right, don’t sit,” she said, tossing him the treat. He caught it in midair, and was already chewing it before his feet touched the ground again. He munched happily, tail in full swing. “I’ll give you one more if you stop barking at me.”
He walked up to her, and she held out one more biscuit on her flat open palm. But instead, he sniffed her fingertips, her wrist. He must smell Dominic, she realized. Then he quickly snatched the other biscuit, gobbling it up. He nudged her hand with his broad, flat head, then licked away crumbs. Smiling a little, she patted his head cautiously. He moved to ensure she turned it into a stroke. Pretty soon, she was stroking his head and scratching behind his ears as his tail wagged furiously.
As she paid attention to Max, she surveyed the bedroom suite. It was cavernous, dark, just as she’d remembered it. He didn’t pay very much attention to it: the bed wasn’t made, clothes were strewn near a chair. It wasn’t like the rest of the house at all. There were three other rooms. One, she knew, was the bathroom, where she’d gotten the medical kit.
Somewhere in the other two were the answers she wanted.
When Max was finally satisfied, moving to his bed next to the bedroom’s fireplace—apparently, Dominic loved fireplaces—she moved carefully to the first closed door. Taking a deep breath, she opened it.
She didn’t understand what she was looking at, at first. There was a large dog bed, and a mountain of half-chewed toys. Exploring a little more, she found some cupboards that held various treats, brushes, soaps, and medicines. The water in the sterling-silver dog bowl was automatically refreshed.
Max followed her, his tongue lolling out as he gave her a canine grin. He bounded inside, jumping on a large hunk of rope and tugging it across the floor.
“You have your own room?” she asked, stunned. In answer, Max rolled happily, grabbing up a toy and shaking it vigorously.
She started laughing. Of course Max had his own room. He was Dominic’s closest friend.
Still smiling, she walked to the other room. Stepping inside, she found an office, of sorts: a large desk with an expensive-looking glossy black computer, complete with three widescreen monitors. Over against one wall, there was a bank of television screens. She frowned, looking closer. No, not televisions: security screens, closed circuit, obviously. After a second, she recognized the rooms each screen displayed—the kitchen, the living room, all as seen from above. Obviously there were hidden cameras in the ceiling, carefully camouflaged. She recognized the view in her bedroom. He had the whole place under surveillance.
It didn’t surprise her. It didn’t even really disturb her. She traced her fingers over the screen that showed her bed.
I wonder if he keeps tapes
.
She felt the heat of a blush at the thought, but still enjoyed the pervasive, curious heat. Still, that wasn’t why she was there. She ignored the distraction, moving past the surveillance equipment to the large desk instead.
She wasn’t sure what she was looking for. She flipped past folders in his desk drawers: miscellaneous bank accounts, financial holdings, contracts. She didn’t care about that. Each subsequent drawer seemed to produce more of the same.
Irritated, she closed the last drawer. What had she expected to find? A folder, neatly labeled “my past,” waiting for her or anyone rifling through his room to discover it?
She frowned, then turned on his computer, going onto the Internet. He had a miraculously fast internet connection. She did some Google searches, looking through news archives. There were plenty from several years ago. Lots of arrests, few convictions. Then she searched for images.
The picture of him took her breath away.
He was beautiful, in a purely masculine, awe-inspiring way. He had a sensual, gorgeous face that really could have been called angelic were it not for the promise of violence and power in his eyes. Even in the dull two dimensions of a monitor, he looked seductive. Several of the images were of him with equally beautiful women—sometimes several at one time. Jealousy struck her, fast and hard, and she quickly clicked away from those pictures, although there seemed to be hundreds. Finally, she stopped quickly as she saw a caption that made her freeze:
“Dominic Luder with mob daughter Alexis Carmello.”
She stared at the woman in the picture. She was stunning, like some kind of Amazon princess. She had an arm through Dominic’s, but her smile was one of smug possession as she surveyed the crowd around them. It was at some society party, and the woman was dripping with diamonds. But Dominic wasn’t staring at her with adoration, as most of the others were. He looked uncomfortable, his eyes directed away from her, his expression bored.
It was a start…but it wasn’t enough.
“Wanted to check your e-mail, huh?”
She sighed, then turned to face Dominic.
“I wanted to know more about you,” she said. “I wanted to find out about you.”
He reached past her, shutting off his computer monitor with a soft click. “You saw me,” he said flatly. “What I was.”
She nodded.
“Feel cheated?” The bitterness in his voice was palpable, and she saw his fear and reticence, past the scars in his face.
She cupped his mauled cheek in her palm. “Absolutely not,” she said. “I don’t care about that.”
He pulled away from her. “Then what the hell did you want to find out? It’s all in the past. It’s not important.”
“I want to know everything about you,” she whispered, following him as he tried to escape to the bedroom. “Who you were. Who you
are
.”
He sat on the bed, sending her an impassioned look. “You know me well enough.”
“It’s
not
enough,” she protested.
“What if I told you that’s all you’re going to get?”
She let out a loud, frustrated sigh. “Don’t treat me like a child!”
“I think you’re forgetting the rules of this situation,” he said sharply, standing up and stepping close to her. There was no pleading in his look now. He projected sternness…ferocity. “I
own
you. You do what I…”
“Shut up!” she said, shoving him. Or at least, trying to shove him. She put her hands on his chest but couldn’t move him an inch. “If all I am is a slave to you, some little play thing, then go ahead. Punish me. Stop me from asking anything. Shut yourself off. But we both know that I care about you. And you care about me, if you’d just be honest with yourself.”
He glared at her, bearing down on her, his expression full of menace.
She crossed her arms, glaring back.
“What the hell do you want to know?” he said finally.
Her mind rushed with questions. “Everything.”
“I was born to a hooker in Alameda, California,” he said, his voice a dull monotone. “I don’t know who my father was. My Mom didn’t give a shit about me. She kept me around for welfare money until she got a better pimp and I went into foster care. I joined a gang when I was fourteen. And then I did every bad thing imaginable. Is that what you wanted to know?”
His voice was deceptively casual, but each word lashed out like a whip. She swallowed hard, hearing the pain in every syllable.
“Because I was so good-looking, lots of women wanted to fuck me. I got a lot of attention. My nickname was Prettyboy. Because of a woman, I got a chance at getting into a big gang lord’s house. He’d ordered a hit on a friend of mine. His wife wanted a piece of me, so I got into their house and I killed him. Is that what you wanted to know?”
She shook her head. “Dominic…”
He grabbed her arms, forcing her to look into his face. “Made myself a big name, then. Moved to Vegas. Traveled the world. Did whatever they asked me to. Had more money, more guns, more pussy thrown at me than I knew what to do with. Thought I’d finally joined a family, people who gave a shit about me. But when I wouldn’t play ball, my ex-lover tries to take me out. Do you know how many people I had to kill to ensure my own safety? How many years I’ve had to fend for myself?”
He pushed her, pinned her to the bed, looming over her like a demon.
“Tell me, Nadia…
Is that what you wanted to know?
”
She ached to hold him, to somehow ease the searing agony she could sense coming off of him like heat from the Nevada desert. His eyes burned with a terrifying, scorching fury.
“I
knew
you’d keep pushing. Knew that you wouldn’t be satisfied until you’d gotten to hear about my past,” he said. “And you know what’s even worse? I knew I’d tell you. You know
why
?”
She shook her head.
“Because I know you can’t stay here,” he said, and his voice broke. He let her go, rolling away from her. “It’s stupid to keep you. You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve
me
.”
He closed his eyes, turning away from her.
She tugged at him, urging him back. Holding him when he wouldn’t budge. “Why do you say that?”
“I’ve done terrible things.” His voice was a low monotone.
“So have I,” she said.
“I’ve been an enforcer,” he muttered. “A thief. Murderer.”
“I’ve been a whore,” she said. “I come from a family of thieves and prostitutes. It’s not who I am now.” She forced him to turn to her. “It’s not who
you
are now.”
He shook his head. “Don’t try that. For Christ’s sake, don’t try to five-second psychoanalyze me.”
“All right. You’re an enforcer, thief and murderer,” she said.
He nodded, finally turning to her, looking miserable.
She stroked his face. “I don’t care.”
“Bullshit.”
She growled at him. Then she kissed him, gently first, then harder.
He shoved her away.
She felt tears sting at the corners of her eyes. Then pure, unadulterated anger sang through her bloodstream.
She tackled him.
She was gratified to see the look of surprise on his face—obviously, he didn’t see this coming. She tried kissing him again. He struggled away from her. Finally, with a low roar, he spun, pinning her to the mattress again. “Enough!”
“No, it isn’t,” she hissed, and wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, clinging to him like a barnacle.
He bucked against her—a familiar sensation. He was wearing clothes. She wasn’t. His belt buckle chafed against her stomach, but she tightened her grip, kissing whatever she could reach.
“Damn it.”
He finally got loose, breaking the grip of her arms. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Yes!” She grabbed for him, and he held her wrists, trapping her against the bed. They were both breathing heavily, staring at each other. “I’m not going to let you do this,” she rasped.
“Do what?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Be all sacrificial and noble. You think you’re not good enough for me. I don’t care, and I’ll prove it to you.”
He stared at her, his mouth working even though words didn’t come out. Finally, he frowned. “How do you plan on doing that?”
“By staying.”
“For how long?”
She swallowed.
“Forever.”
He went still. Then, with a low, tortured moan, he reached down, tearing open his fly, shoving his pants down past his hips. He nudged at her legs and she opened them eagerly. His massive cock strained against her stomach, and he shoved himself inside her, filling her with shocking speed. She cried out in gratitude as he slid into her body. She needed this. Needed
him
.
He surged up inside her, his body shifting and straining, his cock plunging inside her. It was rough, and quick, and harsh. His hips slammed against her, and she arched and screamed, forcing her hips against his, meeting him thrust for thrust. They were like animals, clawing at each other, their lips and teeth feasting wherever they could. He held her buttocks as he bucked, and she bit his shoulder as she screamed his name. She could feel the exquisite foretaste of climax shivering through her, and she moved mindlessly against him, her thighs tightening, her pussy clenching around his long, hard shaft.
“Nadia!”
he roared, and as if triggered, her orgasm shattered her. She shrieked with the pleasure of it, and was gratified to feel his shuddering, pulsing release, hot and deep within her.